


Blasphor Everybody in the Room

by Trista_zevkia



Series: Platonic [19]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Dubious Science, Identity Porn, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Multi, Tagging will ruin the ending, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:26:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superman/Batman/Superman have sex. The rest of the words are just an excuse to set up that situation. Enjoy! </p><p>I try to write these so you don't have to read them all or in any order, so you might be able to understand this without reading Blasphemy, Blas-for-you, but I would really recommend youtubing 'Eddie Izzard Blasphemy' to get the joke in the titles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blasphor Everybody in the Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fakescorpion (SiZodiac)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiZodiac/gifts).



> Fakescorpion, don't be afraid of reading too much into things. ;)

Even criminals hated Mondays; it was something Clark had learned to appreciate over the years. People still did bad things like robbing a store, but the major heists weren't really planned for 4:30 A.M. on a Monday morning. The night had been so quiet; he'd gotten a restful sleep, more than he technically needed. Dressed as Superman, he'd headed into the atmosphere to catch some unfiltered sun.

Europe was awake and resenting it, deep into their Monday already. He thought about heading over there, there was a place in Dublin that he could get ice cream for breakfast, when a flash over Metropolis caught his eye. He analyzed it even as he flew toward it, looking for more signs of danger. 

It had been mauve and swirly, with lightning thrown in for effect. It had covered a few square miles of downtown, centered over the tallest skyscraper. And for a fun bonus, there was already a Superman just about at the epicenter of the thing. Clark would really like for one of his doppelgangers to drop by with a fruit basket for a friendly chat about how to be a nice guy. He had the terrible feeling he'd have to be that Superman for the multiverse. 

Clark turned on his J.L. comm. and came to hover in front of the other him. The one in white, with gold trim, a cross where his house shield should be, and large gold crucifix hanging from his neck. Even Mr. T would have found that thing to be a bit much. 

SuperPope looked at him far too closely, his eyes getting that look Clark got when he looked at fine details on something far away. When SuperPope smiled, Clark spoke. 

"J'onn, it's SuperPope, warn B." There was more to the message, but SuperPope had opened his hand, showing that the rings on his left hand were all connected to a disk in his palm. The blast from the disk was a flash of light and a lingering pain as Clark's world folded in on itself. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

This Sunday night had been painfully slow, even as it crept into Monday morning, so Batman knew something big was coming, something more unpredictable than his usual villains up to their old tricks. He'd therefor used this downtime wisely; updating computer files and software, researching new ways to incapacitate the heroes of the world, and teaching his software to skip news reports about how Superman's dick fit into his little red shorts. The man didn't provide the news with enough to talk about, apparently, because they brought that story back every time ratings slumped. Bruce had showered and slipped into a black silk robe, ready to head upstairs to sleep, when the JL comm. signaled for his attention. 

"Batman." He growled as if he wasn't slightly bored by the lack of activity tonight. 

"Kal-el told me to warn you of ‘SuperPope’ before going silent." J'onn wasn't an air quotes kind of guy, but Batman still heard them, along with a bunch of questions. 

Bruce was already moving, opening the safe in the cave and taking out two items. "Evaluated situation, protect Superman." 

"Understood." 

Bruce really appreciated J'onn in that moment. He was going to rescue Superman, if needed, and then worry about Batman. If SuperPope had turned up to revenge the sex tape, he would have come prepared for this world's Superman. Batman was supposed to be the wild card, the human who would do anything to survive which made him unpredictable. 

Though, honestly, Bruce thought it was just because he was more prepared than anybody else. For instance, he was now on his bedroom's balcony railing armed with nothing but a black silk robe and a glass of water. Who else would take on Superman like this? The glass rested on a polished antique serving tray, as he watched SuperPope fly at him out of the sunrise. As he landed on the balcony, Bruce turned so that the sun was no longer in his eyes. 

"Superman!" he gushed. "Did you finally meet with that stylist I recommended? The white and gold is stunning on you." 

SuperPope stared, his eyes going wide and unfocused, which meant he was scanning Bruce's cells. With a blink, SuperPope was smiling at him. 

"I've even missed Brucie, you beautiful creature." 

"Did I miss something? I mean, I am Brucie, and not a creature." Brucie's confused frown was very believable. 

SuperPope laughed, and sped over slide between Bruce's knees. "Talk Brucie to me; I might even pretend to fall for it, for old time's sake." 

Just to be annoying, or himself as Hal like to say, Bruce replaced Brucie. "Why didn't you take up your house shield?" 

"There you are." SuperPope whispered, almost in prayer. Picking up Bruce's hand, he kissed the knuckles. 

"Thought I was supposed to kiss your ring, Super Pontiff." 

"You're supposed to kiss more than that," SuperPope replied with heat in his voice. 

Bruce was torn, half of him disgusted by this manic coming on to him, the other half responding as if it was Clark. Bruce was so confused that he let SuperPope wedge himself further into his legs. SuperPope wrapped his arms around Bruce's waist, preventing him from scooting away on the balcony ledge. As SuperPope leaned in and started sniffing his neck, Bruce schooled his body on not responding that way, not even if it was really Clark there. The sniffing went on longer than the schooling though, long enough that Bruce got uncomfortable and tried to wiggle out of it. One arm turned to iron around his waist, while the other moved up to grip his head. 

" **Sit still**." 

Bruce complied, but mainly to figure out what had happened, and buy J'onn more time. Did the alternate universe SuperPope have extra vocal cords? Perhaps some sort of psychic power connected to his speaking voice? It was as if the voice was compelling Bruce to obey even as SuperPope spoke the words. It sounded different than the commands he'd normally hear out of Clark, and even different than the tones SuperPope had already displayed. Bruce remembered the use of 'omega' in the porn he'd listened to in that world, and wished he'd had the time to really figure that out. He'd thought it was a fancy term for a sub, but maybe natural doms in that world had a physical means of expressing dominance? 

"Your scent is lacking." SuperPope announced. 

Since he had to pull away to announce this difference, Bruce stretched his neck and counted it as a win. "Sorry about that, guess we'll have to call the whole thing off." 

"I will get used to it. Even when we were friends, you continued to hide your scent from me. Always so secretive. I put up with the scentless soaps, so I can get used to this as well." SuperPope laughed and continued. "Nobody could prove you were an omega, not until Lex spiked your drink." 

"I drank something Lex had been within ten feet of?" Bruce suddenly doubted his AU self's intelligence. 

"Oh, no. Lex dumped a heat inducer into the water supply for the whole building, so you weren't the only one to get hit. Your heat just hit you like a train because you were watering your drinks down so much." SuperPope's hand came up to gently brush through his hair. "You commed me, let me help you through it, but still refused to bond with me. It took anyway, too strong for even you to resist. I almost thanked Lex for what he'd done, until I saw the video footage." 

Bruce really didn't want to ask, and he blamed it on playing for time, but really it was the need for information that was such a part of him. "What was Lex's purpose for drugging a whole building?" 

"Lex knew you’d attend that fundraiser and he wanted to claim you, following you around that building as you called for me. He tried to force a bond on you in a stairwell, but you kicked him in his knot and made it to the roof, to me. He claimed it was alpha hormones, that he couldn't help himself around your smell. They couldn't prove it was him that put the heat inducer into the water, so he didn't even get arrested. We were distracted with the consequences, but when I learned of this, I had to stop him from touching what was mine ever again." 

The hand in Bruce's hair stilled, but Bruce could still feel the possessive want coming from SuperPope. He looked away, only to have his head turned back for a gentle kiss. When SuperPope finally pulled away, the command in his voice wasn't reduced by the love light in his eye. 

"We've wasted enough time; let's go home." 

Bruce grabbed his glass of water, lifting the dull grey glass off the lead lined tray to expose a chunk of green rock. "I am home." 

Clark tried not to show how bad the kryptonite made him feel, as if he could keep from hurting his enemies’ feelings as they applied it to him. They knew it hurt him; that’s why they brought it. Batman never showed pain because then his enemies would know he was human after all, but that wasn't a concern Clark had. But whatever signs he was used to seeing in a kryptonite exposed Clark, SuperPope showed none of them. Instead, he frowned curiously at the exposed kryptonite and the lead glass with the false bottom. Reaching out, he picked up the kryptonite. 

"What is this supposed to do to me?" With a shrug he dropped the rock and held a hand out to Bruce. "We're going home." 

"I would have to ask you not to do that." Came a calm voice from the other side of the balcony. 

Bruce recognized the voice, so he didn't turn away from his know/unknown friend/enemy. 

"J'onn J'onzz, you are a calming influence in any universe," SuperPope said, a genuine smile on his face. 

"I do strive for a certain objectivity. As such, I know you would not leave this planet without the protection of Superman and Batman at the same time." 

"It is not what I prefer, no, but I don't want to fight me, and he'll come for Bruce." 

Bruce's mind, never truly still, sorted through things. J'onn had not been able to determine what SuperPope had done to Clark, or Clark would be here now. Given enough time, J’onn might figure it out, time in which Bruce would be stuck in an alternate universe. Without looking to J'onn, Bruce went ahead with the plan he'd just made up and expected J'onn to catch on. 

"Superman," he said, getting that individual's full attention. "Let J'onn into your mind. Show him what you did with our Superman, and when he is satisfied, I will go with you willingly." 

"That's not much of a bargain, considering I know just how obstinate I can be in claiming my Batman." 

Bruce gave a head tilting half-shrug. "You also know how I act when I'm unwilling." 

"Oh, yes, I know." SuperPope licked his lips as he said it; just in case Bruce needed another reminder that this wasn't Clark in front of him. "But I will take that deal. J'onn?" 

J'onn didn't speak or move his physical form, so all Bruce had to go by was the way SuperPope's eyes glazed over as their minds touched. As SuperPope blinked back into awareness, Bruce felt a gentle presence on the edge of his mind. _"We will come for you."_

Aware enough to grin at Bruce, SuperPope reached out and wrapped his arm around Bruce’s shoulders. SuperPope's other hand reached up to the cross hanging around his neck, a rather ostentatious piece Bruce had thought. He twisted the section leading up to the arms, and they were engulfed in a blaze of light. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

When the pain stopped, when Clark was extracted from the prison that SuperPope had tossed him into, it wasn't Bruce's scowl he saw. J'onn and Hal Jordon were frowning at him, in one of the science labs on the Watchtower. Clark opened his mouth to demand an explanation, but stopped when he felt J'onn asking for entrance into his mind. He'd never granted the other entrance so quickly. 

He got to see the quick version of J'onn contacting Batman, of bringing Green Lantern to Metropolis to look for Kal. Not finding anything, Hal had continued to look while J'onn went to Gotham. He'd seen SuperPope sniffing Bruce, and seen Bruce's play with the kryptonite fail. 

"What?" He asked out loud and mentally, not understanding how the green rock wouldn't affect the other him. 

J'onn assured him it was kryptonite, he'd made sure even though he knew Batman would have checked, and pressed on. Showed how Bruce had got the information needed to save Clark, and let SuperPope hug him into an AU. Then J'onn had used the information to find the one dimensional mirror that SuperPope had put Clark into, his universe's Phantom Zone. With Clark up to date, J'onn exited his mind, but J'onn could still predict what Clark's first concern would be. 

"So who's looking for a way to get B back?" 

Hal rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to rescue him without more information. Do you know the kind of lecture he'd give us if we did?" 

Clark paused and then nodded, knowing Hal had a point. Clark had all the information and he'd been trapped, so they had to rescue him first or Bruce would never let them hear the end of it. At least they were learning something, even if it was only how to avoid the Bat-lecture. Now, Clark had to explain to two people he respected that they'd attempted to take down a dictator with a sex tape. 

"I believe we would be more interested in the details of the alternate universe than how exactly you came to the awareness of the leadership." J'onn offered, proving why it was great to have a mind reader for a friend. 

"Right. Well, apparently Martin Luther never nailed his reformation to their church doors, so the Catholic Church maintained a greater level of control there." It was as good as place to start as any." 

sB _Sb_ Bs

Time crawled by, and Clark was never going to tell Bruce about when he told Dick. Of all the reactions to 'Bruce is trapped in an AU' Clark expected, Dick rolling his eyes and sagging onto the rooftop while melodramatically muttering 'again' wasn't the most sympathetic response. He'd still tossed on the suit to keep Batman's presence active in Gotham, while avoiding the Bat-signal and Gordon. Clark didn't ask. 

Clark was trying to do all the things he normally did; work full-time, fight crime full-time, pretend to be human part-time, and lead the JL, while trying to find out how to get Bruce back. Having to write articles speculating where Brucie had disappeared to this time was really not helping, because it’s not like he could tell the truth. British Guyana was his current favorite baseless speculation. 

He'd sent Green Lantern out to find the Wachowskisiblings, the creatures that had sent them into that AU the first time. Nomadic, they were apparently the Jokers of space, though less deadly. Nobody could figure out what they were going to do next, or what was the point of that last thing they just did. Which, kind of explained why their main weapon was so unique and confusing. 

Clark needed that weapon, as he figured it could send him right to the correct AU, where he'd have twelve hours to find Bruce. Considering Bruce had been kidnapped by him, he kind of knew where Bruce would be. In his Fortress, with J’onn watching, Clark had let Hal zap him with the Wachowskisiblings weapon of choice. 

It had been a long week, with a great many hours for Clark to plan for what he'd find when he got there. None of his imaginings readied him for the sounds he heard as he materialized in the AU Fortress. Since SuperPope sounded close to orgasm, Clark gave up on being sneaky and just sped to the bedroom. 

Hot damn did they look good together. The thought raced through his mind before he could stop it, followed shortly by the thought that he was glad this dick pic wasn't available for sweeps week. Bruce looked over, tearing his eyes away from where SuperPope was impaling himself on Bruce's cock. 

"Clark, finally." Bruce sounded exhausted, as if he'd spent the last week trying to calm SuperPope down with his cock. 

"What's going on?" Clark asked, in what he could tell was a calm voice, probably because he was still in shock. 

"Stick that erection in here and I'll explain." He even pointed, in case Clark wasn't sure what 'here' he was supposed to penetrate. 

"Bruce, that's kind of gross." 

"It's an egomaniac's ultimate masturbation fantasy, fucking himself. Just tell your dick whatever you have to, and give me a rest." 

Bruce looked exhausted, and the grey leather cock ring was probably all that was keeping him up at this point. Plus he was actually asking for assistance, so Clark knew he couldn't refuse him. Still, Clark went over to the secret drawer and pulled out a condom before pulling off his clothes. 

"Just so you know, I thought you looked sexy fucking me; the erection wasn't about how my double looks." 

"Don't care; too tired." 

"Yeah, yeah." Clark groused, but still slid his naked, condom wearing-self next to Bruce, who unsnapped his cockring. 

Bruce came with the release of the toy, though he sure didn't seem to enjoy it. Clark moved his body double over, dropping him on Clark's cock. SuperPope didn't even stop thrusting down and back up, his hard cock bouncing without a hand on it. Clark let the sight of Bruce keep him hard, and held up a hand to block the visual of what was going on below his waist. Bruce looked fucked out, and that was such a good look on him Clark wished he'd been a part of it. 

"Anytime you're ready." 

'So impatient." Bruce huffed. 

"J'onn showed me the confrontation on the balcony. I was really impressed by the lead lined water glass with the false bottom. I wouldn't have even thought to x-ray that for hiding Kryptonite, you know, if I'd gone nuts and had to be put down. Shame I've seen it, as you'll have to come up with something else to kill me. Have you figured out why it didn't affect this guy? Maybe if it hadn't been as strong to him as it is to me, that would be something, but he didn't react at all." 

Bruce snorted. "Oh, he reacted." 

Clark considered this, and what was happening below his waist. "Kryptonite makes him insatiable?" 

"No, that would make sense." Bruce snorted again, but Clark knew this one wasn't directed at him. "In this universe, there are three secondary genders. Most males and females are betas, like normal people in our universe. Alphas are dominate, aggressive, supposedly natural born leaders. Omegas, male and female, go into heat and can get pregnant." 

"Male pregnancy is common here?" 

"Well, not that common. There are certain population ratios in effect, and betas aren't as fertile in our world, whereas omegas are super fertile." 

"Superfertile?" 

"Don't worry your pretty little spit curl; SuperPope is known the world over as a virile alpha. Bruce Wayne was rich enough to afford suppressants and soaps that hid his secondary gender from the world, as he wouldn't have been allowed to inherit Wayne Enterprises if he was an omega." 

"Yet somehow you managed to hide your secondary gender from the world while coming across as dumb as a brick, to hide the Batman thing." 

"Sound impressive when you say it like that, but it just relies on people not thinking about what they are seeing." 

Clark was just glad only him and his double would know he'd gotten a little harder at the idea of what Bruce could do. 

"So, apparently Lex decided to prove I was an omega, and claim me as his mate so he could control W.E. He induced a heat, I kicked him in the nads, and fled to the roof. SuperPope rescued me, and decided I was his mate. He claims it was a mutual thing and a natural bond, but I couldn't find any reliable scientific evidence of what a bonding is, and just how real the claimed mental connection is. You'd think if humans have always been like this, there would be better research, but apparently omegas are too fragile to study." 

This Bruce hadn't lived his whole life under such a system, but Clark could still how angry and annoyed he was with the whole thing. Yeah, this universe's Bruce would have been a pissed-off handful even if he hadn't been Batman. 

"So you suicided rather than be with me?" 

"Him, not you, and still, no. This version of me didn't like that Clark found out what Lex did to me and executed him. Being SuperPope's mate and property, omega me took the most logical route out." 

"I don't know if suicide is logical, but all that doesn't explain this." Now Clark got to gesture at what he meant by 'this' in case it wasn't obvious and grinding down on his erection. “Or how you know so much if you’ve been in bed all week.” 

“He planned it this way.” Bruce waved a hand at SuperPope and closed his eyes, but he kept talking. “He planned to kidnap me, explain things and get me on his side before his rut hit.” 

“Rut?” 

“Farm boy don’t know what a rut is, the fuck or fight mating instinct of some mammals?” 

“No, just thinking of the humans who’d use that as an excuse for unacceptable behavior.” 

“Now you’re thinking like me,” Bruce paused. “Stop it, it’s weird.” 

“You’re only saying that because you’re dead on your feet.” 

“I’m on my ass.” Bruce chuckled at his own joke. 

“I rest my case.” 

“I rest my dick.” This time, Bruce giggled, and the strange sound sent a shiver up Clark’s spine. SuperPope groaned when he felt the movement. 

“He planned on sharing his rut with you to start another bond.” Clark thought about it, about the one little fact his other seemed to have missed. “Except, you’re basically a beta, no heat to synch up to his ruts.” 

“That’s what I told him.” Bruce was annoyed and made a gesture at the man in question. “Why don’t you believe me?” 

“We all know you’d lie to get your way.” 

“Yep, that’s a good reason.” Bruce was calm again, his emotions fluctuating wildly, as he lacked the energy to support any. 

“Bruce, you know I had to contradict your analysis, of anything really, but shouldn’t a rut put him in the position of fucker, instead of fuckee?” 

“Fuckee!” Bruce parroted, and giggled. Clark didn’t let his body shiver again, but it was still as weird as this fuck. “Kryptonite.” 

Bruce named the rock as if it explained everything, so Clark stopped to think about it. After a moment, he realized it did not, in fact, explain anything. “Kryptonite?” 

"Kryptonite didn't make him sick or weak. Exposure makes him switch secondary genders." 

“Oh, gods, his rut is now a heat. Is this where the knots come into it?” 

“Yes, this is where the knots come into him.” The giggle that accompanied that comment was the longest yet. 

“Do you turn into a 12 year-old when sleepy? Is this why you never let anyone spend the night?” 

“Sleepy? I’m not sleepy, I’m a prisoner of this bed. He won’t let me leave. Last time I had to pee, which was about two days ago, I think, I just pointed over the edge of the bed.” 

“Hey!” 

“Not your house, and the robots autocleaned it. They won’t auto feed and water SuperPope’s sex toy, they won’t accept my voice commands, and I can’t satisfy you!” Bruce’s voice ended on an emotional note, some unidentifiable thing that made Clark want to cuddle the man. 

“Him, Bruce, you satisfy me plenty.” Clark expected more of a response to that statement, so he took a closer look at Bruce to see he’d fallen asleep since that outburst. “I guess this is the one thing you don’t have the equipment for.” 

Clark wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, if it was a crack at Batman’s impressive array of equipment, or Bruce’s lack of emotional equipment, when it occurred to him that he was right. Beta!Bruce’s anatomy wasn’t what the Omega!SuperPope needed. Hating his idea even before it was fully formed, Clark ordered the AI to provide some water and energy drinks for a human. Then he reached out to shake Bruce awake. 

The full Bat-scowl wasn’t diminished by puffy eyes and swollen lips. 

“Bruce, you need to penetrate him again.” 

“Your shift now.” 

“No, he’s waiting for a knot, I think. He’s waiting for the knot to stop your sperm from escaping, so you’ve got to fake a knot before he’ll stop.” 

“I don’t think that’s how knots work, or heats.” 

“You’ve come up with a better idea in the last few days of sex hell?” 

“It wasn’t hell, I just needed a fucking break.” Bruce giggled, “a fucking break from the fucking.” 

“Once more …” 

“Into the breach?” Bruce interrupted to giggle. 

The AI redeemed itself for ignoring Bruce’s needs by having a robot show up right then so Clark didn’t have to respond to that joke. Bruce was in a bad way, because he chugged back the tangerine liquid without demanding to know every molecule that went into it. When that was empty, he took the water to sip. 

“I think I’m going to need more than whatever the hell that was to get it up again. You’ll just have to do it without me.” 

“Fine, leave then.” Clark added a shove to his words, pushing Bruce to the edge of the bed. SuperPope seemed oblivious to them, but zeroed in on Bruce as he tried to leave the bed. Pulling off Clark, as if he were little more than a sex toy being left behind, SuperPope manhandled Bruce until his was on all fours. Clark had to fight back a giggle of his own at Bruce’s look of resigned annoyance. Only Bruce could make getting rimmed into hardness seem like such a chore. 

It did take a while, much longer than it usually took for Bruce to respond to Clark’s touch. Clark knew it was mainly exhaustion and being fucked out, but he liked the idea that it was because Bruce knew it wasn’t Clark doing this to him. That was a rather possessive thought that he knew better than to have, so he hoped there wasn’t a kryptonite color that could get him to admit to that thought. 

When he was hard again, Bruce still managed to give Clark a dark, speculative look that had Clark tensing up. In a sudden move, Bruce pulled away from SuperPope and spun around. With a hand on his chest, Bruce pushed SuperPope, who willingly put his back to the bed. Or would have, if Clark hadn’t been between SuperPope and the bed. Clark knew Bruce had planned it that way, so he didn’t move or protest. 

“Super stack,” Bruce giggled, and then shook his head as if to ward off the sleepy-time giggles. Determined once again, he slid into SuperPope, bottoming out as if he’d never left that warm channel. Holding still, he reached over and poked Clark on his bicep. “Move down a bit, and you can fuck me in the ass while I fuck you in the ass; we’ll be the M.C. Escher of beasts with two backs.” 

“How do you get more intellectual when delirious?” Clark asked in disbelief, even as he slid down to where he could do as so deliciously instructed. He wound up with a mouthful of shoulder blade, but some selective vision allowed him to see Bruce, who was as open as if the heat had been more penetrativly fair than Clark thought. Clark took a moment to shimmy into a fresh condom from the drawer before sliding into a slowly thrusting Bruce. 

Bruce moaned, and Clark was filled with a burning jealousy for this version of himself, with the biologically necessary sex marathon. Bruce began to move, shoving into Clark and back onto Clark, his hips rolling in an unfairly sensuous move. He giggled again, and then went at it with a silent determination that spoke of Batman’s presence. 

Clark was so caught up in the show that he almost forgot to watch for signs of Bruce’s impending orgasm. He didn’t have time to switch condoms before he was pulling out of Bruce to join Bruce in SuperPope’s ass. Clark matched Bruce’s speed, penetrating in tandem for a few thrusts before Bruce came with a stuttering moan. SuperPope came a moment later with a howl to wake the dead, and again when Clark came in the condom. 

At the bottom of the super stack, Clark listened to the others’ breathing normalize before he dared to move again. He tried not to envy SuperPope the two ejaculations in a row he’d just had, as that had to be exhausting. Finally, he looked through SuperPope to find he was no longer erect, and seemed to be asleep. 

“Oh, thank all the gods, he’s asleep. Bruce, let’s get the hell out of here before he wakes up.” Clark couldn’t wait to use the Boom Tube hidden in his clothes. When he didn’t get an answer form Bruce, he looked to him. Face planted on SuperPope’s chest, Bruce was asleep again. 

Suddenly very glad to be Superman, and capable of deadlifting small buildings, Clark acted. Floating upward a couple of inches, he wrapped his arms around both men and turned them all to the side and rested them on the bed. Floating down toward their feet, he freed his cock from where Bruce was still nestled. Not having a name for what he and Bruce were to each other, Clark wasn’t sure of the correct response for seeing Bruce’s cock tucked in another version of his ass. He kind of wanted to replace the other with his body, or yank Bruce out and demand he come home right now. 

Shaking his head, Clark moved away for a quick rinse in the shower, and then redressed, except for his cape. With his cape over his arm, Clark went to extract Bruce from his position, as delicately as Batman went after a bomb. Gently, slowly, pulling a softened cock out of SuperPope still caused Bruce to jerk around and off of SuperPope, which had SuperPope blinking at them. 

Clark sat Bruce up and wrapped him in his cape, and only glared in retaliation for SuperPope’s look. Bruce didn’t completely wake, and settled his head back onto Clark’s chest. SuperPope slid forward and wrapped his hands around Bruce’s waist. The glaring got even more intense and they didn’t waste words as they both knew what the other was thinking. 

“Take your hands off me or I will cut off all four balls.” 

Somebody must have tightened their hold on Bruce until he was uncomfortable enough to wake up, and Clark knew it was SuperPope. Both Supermans released Bruce, but kept glaring at each other, while Bruce got to his feet and slowly found his balance after days spent horizontal. 

“The testosterone in this room refutes every sexist theory I’ve heard about omegas in this universe. Naked Pope is clearly over his little biological crisis, so I’m taking the Super-clothed express home, and I don’t care if I have to go naked.” 

“You leave and I will immediately level Gotham.” SuperPope left the greater threat to be what he’d do after he was done with that. 

Bruce joined Clark in standing still and glaring at SuperPope, but SuperPope spoke first. 

“You couldn’t leave me to hurt, and the rut will come again in three months. I knew you had planned your escape, but when I needed you, you stayed. Stay with me, keep me safe, keep me human. Please, give me one reason why I should give that up and let you go.” 

Clark felt for the guy, but SuperPope was a dictator and murderer, so he only felt so much for him. Not about to give up his Bruce for this guy Clark spoke. 

“You might lose the baby,” just as Bruce said, “Your omega and pup might be alive.” 

Clark looked to Bruce, who looked back. They shrugged at each other and turned back to SuperPope. The look spurred SuperPope into action, moving out of the room and back in and over to Bruce, to replace the cape with a grey silk robe. 

“Tell me, detective.” 

Bruce flashed Clark a look of regret, and then began to talk. “I analyzed the copy of his suicide video that you keep in the A.I. mainframe. It was filmed in the cave, with an image from the Manor inserted for the background. He didn’t have a green screen when put under house arrest and couldn’t buy one without leaving a paper trail an investigative reporter could follow. So he used old school methods, knowing nobody thinks to look for them anymore; it’s also why he didn’t move at all during the video, as sudden movements would blur where the two images intersect. There are so many ways he could have survived destroying Wayne Manor while in the cave, even if he hadn’t been Batman since you got him pregnant. Or, since you found out he was pregnant, about six months before his due date. While he was in labor, were you poking around in the cave, is that how you found the video of Luthor trying to force him?” 

“What?” SuperPope was thrown by the question, though Clark was too, as it came in the middle of Batman’s analysis of the situation. “No, you and the baby were healthy and asleep in the hospital. I just couldn’t sleep and went to the _Daily Planet_ and somebody had sent in cell phone footage of him chasing you. You were asleep, exhausted, so I couldn’t talk to you about what to do. I just, took care of it.” 

“After months of fighting about killing Luthor, about you not letting him be Batman or help in any way; he still didn’t tell everybody enough to kill you. His description of the kryptonite was vague, further proof he’s still around and wants a monopoly on that information. He hid from the public eye when he was visibly pregnant, and for three months after the birth to get his body back in shape; clearly you were hiding the baby for its own protection. Something he agreed on, as he took pains to hide the baby from humans while making sure you thought it was dead as well.” 

“Please,” SuperPope interrupted to plea, desperately wanting this information. 

“The analysis of the video showed sounds I couldn’t hear, so I adjusted things. He put the noise of a playing toddler in the background where you would hear it naturally, thinking humans could hear it as well. It’s a blindspot in your hearing I’ve noticed, and just not got around to telling Clark about.” 

“You were holding out on me, in case you needed to try a similar trick.” Clark knew this for a fact, and it amused him. This was not the correct response to learning his teammate was withholding information, so he fought to keep the grin off his face. 

Bruce shrugged, and addressed SuperPope. “There were numerous ways I could have faked my death in the cave and destroyed my house, even without the months of planning Bruce had.” 

SuperPope wrapped his arms around Bruce, pulling him into a loving hug. “This is why we can’t live without you.” 

Bruce looked at Clark and rolled his eyes at this statement, clearly not aware that Clark agreed. 

Suddenly, SuperPope spun around, Bruce still in his arms, to glare at Clark again. “What blasphemy were you speaking?” 

“It’s Bruce’s theory!” Clark defended automatically. 

“Super puerile,” Bruce muttered from SuperPope’s shoulder. 

“What is Bruce’s theory then?” SuperPope was only humoring Clark because he’d invoked Bruce’s name. 

“Bruce said you wanted to bond during your next rut, but the kryptonite, the green rock he exposed you to in our world, altered you. Think about what you’ve just experienced; didn’t it seem more like a heat than a rut? Bruce had a fake a knot to get you out of it.” Clark paused to let him think about it, wishing he had stage directions from Bruce on just how long a person needed to understand they’d switched genders. “My Bruce, is a beta, and he’s fully functional. You didn’t show him the condom drawer, maybe hoping he’d conceive since you didn’t study our universe. You could be pregnant right now, and if you go out there to destroy Gotham, Bruce will stop you.” 

“I will,” Bruce confirmed. “I’ll stop you, expose you to kryptonite again, see what it does to you. You might become a beta, but you won’t be able to carry to term as a beta male or an alpha. Don’t you want to be sure before you go back to grinding humanity under your boot heel?” 

“Is that what you think of what I’ve been doing?” SuperPope asked, holding Bruce a little bit away from him so he could look pleadingly into his eyes. 

“You kill political detractors, you’ve imposed your religion and preferences on everyone, and you make all the decisions. Dictator, boot heel, grinding; sounds right to me.” 

“Growing pains; Not much longer and all crime will be gone.” SuperPope dismissed this with a wave of his hand. 

“Our sex tape showed you as a terrible alpha who abuses his omega and was weak enough to let himself get fucked. That managed to unite the alpha traditionalists and the gender equality liberals in rebelling against you, and yet you think you’re helping people.” 

“I did it for you! What happened to you will never happen again.” 

“It wouldn’t matter if a meth-head or cruel dictator killed my parents; they still died and I still had to do something about that.” 

“All crimes are down, and the rehabilitation programs are working.” SuperPope said, but he didn’t sound as sure as he had a moment ago. 

“No, you’ve made individuality and thinking crimes; crimes you don’t know how to count or punish. Other crimes have gone down because everybody is uniting against you.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” 

“I have a feeling I tried.” Bruce calmly replied. 

“You faked your death to hide from me, and not our enemies.” 

Clark winced at the secondhand embarrassment from this realization. He also knew he was about to get into a depressing spiral of what if’s and why didn’t I’s. He could drown in those thoughts, without the productive plans for the future like Bruce seemed to get out of them. Not only did it not help SuperPope, it would keep him from making use of the perfect resource in his arms. 

“Bruce,” Clark called, “what does he need to do to get back together with his Bruce?” 

“Fake his death.” The answer was short, taking longer to make sense than it took for Bruce to say it. 

“You’ve got four hours before we’re going home.” Clark told him, leaving it up to Bruce if he wanted to help. 

Bruce could have had more time, as Clark had eight hours left before he was sent back by the Wachowskisiblings device, but Clark didn’t want to give them that much time. He wanted Bruce safe in the right universe, sleeping off these last few days of sex. Besides, Bruce had produced a video in less than six hours that brought down a government, and this time he had the Fortress at his disposal. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

SuperPope eventually got dressed in one of his fancy white and gold outfits, though he left off the dimension hopping jewelry. Clark watched him help Bruce more than he watched what they were doing, so he got to see the finished project as it was shown to the rest of the world. 

Working together smoothly, Bruce and SuperPope pirated every video signal on the planet. Some places recorded transmissions automatically, but most places would be scrambling to record what was about to happen. People would figure out what they were seeing, and record it on their phones, cameras, laptops. Bruce was harnessing the power of the viral video to get their message across to one person. 

Hidden in the ice and snow so only a select few knew its actual location, the Fortress was still a recognized symbol for their dictator. A distant camera on a tripod seemed to be capturing the real time image of the Fortress, though the blinding whiteness of the snow was hard to detect time changes in unless you knew what to look for. SuperPope, in a blaze of white and gold, flew into the fortress, off to the side of the camera. 

It was awkward enough of an angle for conspiracy theorists to claim SuperPope left before the blast, or never even went in. Thinking it was going to be a special announcement or press release about the recent protests and riots, people started recording the images. 

Four green dots appeared in a rectangular shape, and then three more showed up inside the horizontal rectangle. The lights began to flash, a line of green curving up from the bottom of the sides of the rectangle to the top. The three green lights in the middle formed an upside-down triangle, and now the four lights of the rectangle climbed inward to the triangle in jagged cuts rather unlike the curved outside lines. For not quite a half second, there was a bat-symbol in glowing green light carved into the gravity defying columns of the Fortress. 

People would find the image, and they would discuss it. Some would claim that Batman hadn’t died, some would claim there never was a Batman and it was just a coincidence. Some would remember rumors, about six months before the death of Lex Luthor. The Justice League had been fighting Toyman’s robots when a furious Superman had picked Batman up and flown him away from the fight. That had been the last anyone had heard of the vigilante. Some thought he was Superman’s first kill, while others thought he’d simply no longer allowed Batman to operate, which was understandable considering the Gotham Rebellion a few years later. 

The Bat-symbol, carved into the Fortress, exploded, shocking many who watched, causing hand-held cameras to shake and falter. The explosion decimated the Fortress, leaving the remains of it emitting a strange green light. Crumbling structures and falling chunks of ice stayed green, long after the effects of the explosion had settled. The camera had caught a few chunks of flying debris, but it kept watching. 

The footage would be watched until the camera died, and no sign of Superman was seen, crawling out of the wreckage. Slowly, the world would wake up, and go back to the petty differences that divided them. Countries would create armies and weapons again, and crime would go back up. Hopefully, an omega would keep convincing his alpha that humanity had to be allowed to make mistakes or they would never learn, even as the two of them tried to keep their pups from flying or shooting lasers from their eyes. That was the point of all this, a message for Bruce and the pup he guarded; Come find me at the Fortress, I finally understand. SuperPope is gone, long live Clark. 

Super-exPope was going to wait in the Fortress (confident humanity still wouldn’t be able to find it) for Bruce to find him. This would also give him time to find out if he was pregnant, as not even the AI could detect those minute changes this soon after possible conception. Super-exPope still looked at Bruce with hungry eyes, so Clark tried to keep in his line of sight at all times. He was done trying to be subtle. 

“Bruce, even if my Bruce doesn’t come back to me, I thank you for the assistance.” Super-exPope looked away from Bruce long enough to growl at Clark. “If you do not appreciate everything about this man at all times, he will always be welcome here, even if my Bruce comes back. Not to mention all those other universes out there.” 

Instead of glaring back, Clark acknowledged this truth with a slow nod before turning back to Bruce. 

Their favorite human was fast asleep, sitting upright in the chair with his hands still on the controls. Mission accomplished, in a safe and secure location, Bruce had let the exhaustion take him. Clark gently lifted Bruce, cradling him to his chest. Keeping an eye on Super-exPope, Clark activated the Boom Tube. 

J’onn was waiting for them, meditating in mid-air, where Clark had left him. “Welcome home, Kal-el.” 

_”Good to be back.”_ Clark replied in mind speak, not wanting to wake Bruce. Once linked, it was easy to show J’onn all that had happened, or at least the edited version. Clark knew he could have waited until after they’d zapped up to the Watchtower and down to the Batcave, but he was Superman and could easily handle the weight of Bruce in his arms. He wasn’t stealing a snuggle. 

From the Batcave, Clark flew Bruce up to his room. Removing the grey silk, suddenly not liking the color on Batman, Clark put him to bed naked. Bruce would shower when he woke up, and Alfred would probably burn the sheets. But, well, Bruce was asleep, and Clark needed to get some sleep, since he still wasn’t sure if the Wachowskisiblings device would send him to another universe since he’d returned to the original one with four hours of allotted time left. Honestly, Batman would appreciate not have to go very far to start investigating what had happened to Superman if he disappeared. 

Clark was convinced of that anyway, so he kicked off his boots and slipped into bed with a naked Bruce. He had to leave the suit on, in case he was zapped away, but he could fly a little until he got back to his boots. Snuggling up to Bruce was Clark’s way of analyzing the scent he found, since SuperPope had made such a big deal of it. Bruce smelt of sex and unwashed bodies and sweat. Before he drifted off to sleep, Clark realized he could get behind the idea of Bruce smelling like mate. 

sB _Sb_ Bs

**Author's Note:**

> I'm zevkia on tumbler if anybody wants to ask about timelines or anything.


End file.
